


Release the controls, you will open my eyes

by proleptic_fancy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Good End, Multi, PTSD, Resolved OT3 Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proleptic_fancy/pseuds/proleptic_fancy
Summary: It's always kind of sweet when they think they're being subtle. The only real difference is how much frantic whispering he hears before they strike.





	

Sometimes he wishes he could turn it off, the vigilance this war has carved deep beneath his skin. There is no threat in whatever Pidge is whispering, somewhere just out of sight, or in the gentle rumble of Keith’s stifled laughter, but still his steps falter and his hands tense at the sound.

He wishes his heart could learn to distinguish love from liability, or maybe just to hesitate, to question whether _this_ ambush could be welcome before it starts up its jagged pounding.

“You do know I can hear you,” he says. His voice is even. Years of practice have given him that much, at least, and this time he’s lucky—the words alone are enough to pull him back. The stifling dread begins to recede, if not as quickly as it had risen up to choke him.

And good timing, too, since a panel of the castle wall slides back and someone’s fingers slide under his belt and tug. Hard. It’s unexpected, to say the least, but he can almost believe there’s no real danger, so he lets himself be pulled inside.

It must have been cramped with just the two of them in there and borders on ridiculous with three, and it’s dark enough that he can’t immediately place which one is where in the warm tangle of limbs he’s found himself in. He has to rely on other cues, little things he’s memorized without meaning to: the feeling of Keith’s hair tickling the side of his neck, or how Pidge tenses for a split-second when he touches her, like she still can’t believe it’s real. The subtle differences in the way they hold onto him.

So he’s able to orient himself, mostly, which is a good first step in any unfamiliar environment, but it’s not enough to answer his most pressing questions. For that, there’s no choice but to go to the source.

“Do I even want to ask what you were doing in the walls?”

“No,” from Keith, firm and final, at the same time as Pidge pipes up with, “I was trying to fix something. _He’s_ the one that wanted to go exploring.”

Shiro tries not to laugh. Whatever he thought he was going to hear, it probably should have been something like that.

“Second question,” he says. “What am _I_ doing in the walls?”

Neither of them says anything more, but their answer is unanimous all the same, and he loses himself just a little, overwhelmed by the closeness and heat. It’s funny, though, how the same hands that drive him to distraction are there to hold him steady when he needs to come up for air.

What more can he wish for than that?

**Author's Note:**

> Silly commentfic to counter sad commentfic.
> 
> Title from the same song, for balance and because I love it.


End file.
